Today is Den’s first day back at work. I most definitely feel better able to handle it than I did last week – we are both very glad he took the time off. I am struggling, but am not having panic attacks.

I have felt on the edge of tears all day. I’ve had to go through my RSS blog reader and temporarily remove blogs just so I didn’t get a constant reminder. I’ll read something about a baby and burst out crying. Why does everyone get to bring home a healthy baby but me? I deserve my little boy too. I want my little boy.

I still struggle with the desperate need inside to turn back time somehow – I want to go back and fix it. I want to wake up from this nightmare. I’m still stunned that somehow all of this got taken away from us. I was finally getting out of the hole, my life was finally falling into place. I was finally getting over my feelings of anger and bitterness. And now I’m right back here again. Worse, in some ways. I had it. I had it RIGHT in front of me. And just like that…… it’s gone.

I want so badly to get pregnant again. I’m absolutely terrifed that we will be stuck in another 2 years of hell again and I just can’t handle that. It might be different if we knew I could just get pregnant like normal people. But I know everyone in this situation has a different response… some couples don’t feel anywhere close to being able to handle pregnancy again for a long time. That’s not us.

It hurts so goddamn much I feel like my heart is being torn out. I’ve spent a lot of time being numb the last week…. and to be honest I feel myself clinging to that numbness a lot of the time because the pain hurts so much. I know I have to grieve to heal, but at the same time I know the numbness is my mind’s way of protecting itself from completely falling apart.

I just sit here looking at his picture, bawling my eyes out. I miss him so very, very much…. my precious, perfect little boy. I am in awe that we made such a beautiful little creature. I’d give anything to have him here with us now.

So Den and I are discussing future plans. In a previous post Freyja brought up that we may not need IVF, knowing what our issues are…. and my mind has been pondering the same thing.

We did IVF because we didn’t know what the issue was, and nothing else had worked. It turned out to be not just a treatment but also very educational: we learned that my problem is my egg maturity. I make a TON of eggs on very little medication – on low doses of clomid I made 4 eggs each cycle, and on relatively low doses of follistim (150iu) during IVF I made 24 eggs – however most of those eggs were either dead or immature. ICSI didn’t help raise the odds at all, because duh, you need mature eggs for ICSI.

So the question becomes: is there a way to help my eggs mature WITHOUT doing IVF? I think there should be. I don’t know what drugs are best, or even what drugs are available really…. I’m going to have to do more research on that. But really when you think about our issues, what we need to do is give my eggs a boost with some sort of medication. The sperm isn’t the issue, and the fertilization isn’t the issue (which we know from IVF). Timed intercourse should be fine.

I pulled out our new insurance’s coverage booklet to take a look. I hadn’t taken much of a look at it besides confirming that it covers no IVF at all. But it DOES cover “diagnosis and treatment of infertility” – as long as it’s not any form of ART (including IUI and IVF). $30 co-pay per visit. So I says HMMMM. That sounds suspiciously like they would cover visits to the RE for consults, ultrasound monitoring…. it *may* even cover medication for timed intercourse cycles. Though the medication part is iffy, because they only cover meds ordered through their approved pharmacies, and you can’t order this shit from your local pharmacy. So we may have to pay out of pocket for the very expensive medications – but hell that’s a lot cheaper than an IVF cycle. And we can go have a consult to find out what our options are without worrying about paying for the consult, just a co-pay.

We’re not sure when we’ll want to go back. Probably about 6 months. We’ll try on our own until then and hope that we get lucky. I really want to let my body at least have a chance.

So there’s our plan. It is subject to change.

All I can really say today is that I’m feeling extremely numb. I’ve been sleeping in until noon, which I know I shouldn’t be doing but it’s hard to get out of bed when Den’s not home. Then I get up and try to tackle something – today I worked on updating March’s finances with the budget and even did some client work. And then I sit on my laptop and watch Law and Order until Den gets home.

Just feel so… numb to it all. There are some baby things – some gifts from the baby shower – sitting in our breezeway still. Once in a while when I open the fridge I catch sight of them through the window in the door. But instead of pulling away instead I stand there and stare. I can’t even really describe how it feels… like I am trying to poke holes in the numbness…. trying to make myself feel something. Trying to remember. I stare at the box with the picture of a carseat on the side (we hadn’t even taken it out of the box yet) and remember how I pictured bringing home my son. I just felt a kind of sadness. Not heartwrenching pain…. just sadness.

This evening I brought Devin’s memory box into the bedroom with me and went through it all. I stared at his photos and held the little knitted hat they dressed him in at the hospital. And I cried. Just a little…. silent tears… and then I felt “fine” again.

It’s like everything’s locked up tight, put away. I can still feel – I still laugh, I still feel overwhelming love for my husband – but I feel like the person I am is so far apart from the person who went through labor and delivered Devin, from the person who was pregnant for 8 months. I feel my brain shut off a little when I think about how I was pregnant…. like my mind just slides around it, unable – or unwilling – to grip onto the idea.

It makes me a little bit panicked, to be honest. I lost everything else I had, I can’t lose the memories. Even if it hurts like hell to remember it all. I know it’s “normal” to go numb. I know it’s my body’s way of protecting myself from being totally overcome. So I try to just go with it.

::

Yesterday I pulled out the picture frames we bought and I framed Devin’s Certificate of Life and the handprints and footprints we were given. I love the frame with his little prints in it…. it looks perfect. I love to just sit there and look at them. We had two sets of footprints so I framed one of them in a smaller frame for Den to take to work – he’d been asking me for a couple of days if I had a frame for him to use. He was very happy to get to bring them to work to keep close.

::

Eating isn’t going so well. I forget to eat. In the first few days after Devin’s birth I ate a lot, I ate well. But I guess the more numb I get the less I remember to eat. It’s not that I don’t want to eat. My stomach will growl and I’ll think, I should eat something, and go into the kitchen to find something. But I won’t find anything, I’ll pop some crackers into my mouth, and end up wandering back out again and forgetting to eat for another hour. It’s becoming somewhat of a problem.

Tomorrow Den is taking me to Outback steakhouse – we have a gift certificate to use. So at least I’ll eat tomorrow.

My mind is just swirling tonight. I think part of the reason I feel so numb is that I’m still in a state of disbelief. How can my baby be dead? How could the person I carried for 8 months be gone? How can that even happen to me?

Being infertile sucked, but I accepted it just like I accepted my depression… it was a state of being, my body was broken and needed help. I was angry about it, I was frustrated, I was bitter, but I accepted it.

But this? Something aweful happened to me. To me. Nothing terrible has ever happened to me. Oh my first boyfriend broke up with me many moons ago, and I cried terrible, heart-wrenching tears back then over it. But breaking up with your boyfriend, that happens to normal people. This is… this is just terrible. The odds are stacked against it. You hear stories of it happening to people, to strangers. And you feel sad about it, and you shiver because you just don’t want to think about things like that happening. But you never think it’s going to happen to YOU. Ever. Not once did it go through my head. I worried a little about miscarrying – that happens to a lot of people. But I was way past that. I was worried about preterm labor, having a baby too early. But you never think it’s just going to be OVER. Just like that. Nothing anyone can do. Freak accident. You’re that exception to the rule. You’re that person the bad thing happened to.

And I’m just… struggling to accept that. My entire life got flipped entirely upside down, just like that, and I’m just sitting on the floor with my mouth hanging open. I’m in some alternate reality and there’s a part of me that’s still waiting to find that magic gate back to normal reality. The one where bad things just don’t happen. Not like that.

Did I mention I’ve gotten a little bit paranoid? I keep having these fears that Den will get into an accident or something. I get nervous when he’s not at home. I get nervous when he is home. I know that bad things can and do happen. I don’t feel safe anymore.

I am angry that things have been taken from me, one-by-one…. not physical things, not important things, not even things that I would definitely have taken advantage of. But one by one my options are taken from me.

Going through IVF I thought to myself that the process wasn’t all that bad, and that I could donate my eggs – I was young, I made a lot of eggs. I may not have ever seriously pursued the idea, but I tossed it around in my head nonetheless. I like the idea of paying it forward, helping someone else.

And then I found out my egg maturity is shitty. No one would want my eggs. (And this is why I get so very angry when someone clueless says to me, “You’re young! You have plenty of time!” Oh yeah? Tell that to my damn eggs.)

When I got pregnant I discovered loved it so very much. I only wanted two children total, but I loved the pregnancy experience itself. There were times when I thought about becoming a surrogate. I don’t know if I’d ever be able to make that big of a sacrifice, but I thought about it.

Then we lost Devin to an accident. The reading that I’ve done have suggested that, if it is a cord accident like I suspect, that there is a higher chance of it happening again in a subsequent pregnancy. I love being pregnant, but it’s never going to be the same again. I am going to be terrified. Not only will no one want to hire a surrogate that’s lost a baby late-term, but there’s no way I’d be able to emotionally handle it anyways.

During pregnancy I also became a champion for natural childbirth – or as much a champion as one could be, having not actually been through it myself yet. I educated myself as best I could, and I really believed in it. So much so, in fact, that several times Den would say to me, “Why don’t you pursue this? Become a doula or midwife or something?” I figured it would be a long time since that would happen, and I’d have to actually give birth myself before I could do so, but it was another one of those ideas that I carefully shelved in my brain for the future as a possibility.

I am still very much a advocate of the natural birth process. If I hadn’t been in the midst of a stillbirth I wouldn’t even have gotten the IV meds that I did, and I wouldn’t have been asking for the epidural. My birth experience was a positive one and it at least gave me one aspect of that day that I can look back on proudly and fondly.

But the thought of helping others through their births with live children is not something I could possibly do right now – or for a long time, depending on my next pregnancy and birth. At least this is not something that I am physically unable to do – just mentally and emotionally. And it’s possible that at some point in the future it could change.

It just feels like I am continually being kicked when I am down. None of the things mentioned above were things I had my heart set on… they do not make me weep with a sense of loss and disappointment. It just pisses me off, that’s all. I’m tired of having the rug snatched out from under me.

Of course feeling sorry for myself about the things that I cannot do will neither change it nor give me new ideas. And that is precisely what I need: new ideas. My life has changed, the circumstance has changed. Who I am and what I stand for has changed. This change took away some of the old paths in front of me…. but opened up new ones, I am sure.

There is Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep, a non-profit organization that sends photographers to stillbirths to capture those precious moments – something that I would have been eternally grateful for. (I am grateful for what little we have, but a nurse with a point-and-shoot camera is not going to be able to do the same as professional photographer.) I may not be a pro photog – though I have done one paying job – but I have talent. Becoming a NILMDTS volunteer photographer would be a wonderful way to help others who have been in my shoes. Not only could I provide photos, but I know what they are going through. I’ve been there.

There are other ways, I am sure, of helping others in their time of greatest grief, greatest need. And I wonder if there is some way I could dedicate my life to helping… to using what Devin has taught me to do something worthwhile. The problem, however, is that anything like this would continually open my own wounds. How would it affect me to photograph other stillborn babies? To be around that raw grief? Would it be healthy for me? I don’t know the answer to that yet.

I do need to find some sort of cause, though. Something to put myself into, even if it’s as simple as a small support group. I do like the idea of it being connected to stillbirth and loss, because it helps me feel connected to Devin. It helps me remember and feel useful. Not that Devin’s death happened for a reason – I do not, and will never, believe that – but that maybe I can use this tragedy to grow stronger, to give me a new purpose.

Things are getting a little easier to handle… a little easier to accept. In general… compared to what it was. We speak about Devin fondly, without crying. We talk about him, our son. We talk about what he was, what he could have been. What he gave to us.

But sometimes it just hits me wrong. One of my due date groups has a list of all the babies due dates and when they were born (if they have arrived). I glanced at it today and just felt a kind of confusion to see Devin listed as an angel. I see angels listed in a lot of lists. But it’s still really really hard to get used to seeing it listed beside me.

It’s definitely a process. I feel myself getting used to one thing, then something else catches me off-guard. You never would really think that there were so many little aspects of pregnancy and expecting, but it’s funny how it entangles itself into everything. I find little reminders everywhere. Not that those little reminders are bad – but they certainly are everywhere and can pop up unexpectedly.

::

Clothes are hard for me. I can’t fit into my pre-pregnancy jeans, so I basically have little choice at this point but to wear maternity jeans still. Thankfully I had two pairs of jeans: an under-belly style I wore in early pregnancy, and an over-belly style I wore in late pregnancy. I cannot and could not touch the over-belly style, whether or not they fit me now. The other ones, however, fit me great now and I hadn’t worn them in months, so they don’t cause any issues.

My shirts are kind of a hit-or-miss thing. It’s really kind of weird how some items trigger memories and I just can’t touch them now, and others don’t even though I’d expect them to. The light turtlenecks I wore every evening as PJs, I wore them every evening during pregnancy too even though they aren’t maternity styles. They don’t bother me, I still wear them every night. Two other turtlenecks I have were my most comfortable maternity sweaters, I wore them to work practically every day, and I can’t touch them without getting flattened with a burst of grief. I haven’t worn them since Devin’s birth. (Which makes me frustrated because they were so comfy and warm!) Yet another turtleneck that is also maternity, bought during my pregnancy, I have no issue with. A red maternity sweater reminds me of a maternity photo I took and I can’t bring myself to wear it. A yellow sweater that I wore no more often than the red one, but it’s not maternity and I owned it prior to getting pregnant… no issues. It’s so complicated.

So it’s been fun, sorting through my clothes. Instead of just “Does this fit? Is it comfortable?” I also have to hold clothes up and ask, “Can I emotionally handle wearing this?” (As if I didn’t already spend enough time selecting clothes to wear!) Also going through my pre-pregnancy clothes and figuring out what I can and can’t wear. (I apparently always have had a fondness for tight, form-fitting shirts…. which right now that can feel quite uncomfortable with my belly how it is in its state of recovery.) I’m going to have to pack up my maternity stuff that I can’t/won’t wear anymore for next time and put it safely away. And then I need to go shopping, apparently. Great.

::

Talking about triggers, I have discovered that one of mine isn’t getting any better at all: ultrasounds. They are causing me anxiety attacks. Just looking at Devin’s ultrasound pictures makes me feel anxious. On TV the other night I was watching some show where they had a heart monitor hooked up to a patient, and it was showing the blip blip blip of a heartbeat and then it flatlined… and I could feel my heartrate shoot right up and I started hyperventillating a little. I had to remind myself that a) it had nothing to do with a baby and b) it was on TV. I really think this is going to be an issue in my next pregnancy. Possibly a big one. I’m going to be constantly desperate for a look at my baby to make sure he/she is okay, and simultaneously freaking the fuck out at the idea of going into an ultrasound room. I haven’t had an honest full-out panic attack in years and years, but just thinking about getting an ultrasound really has me close. At least I have time to work on this before needing to actually face one.

I know people in the community are struggling with a feeling of guilt over what they have, going on with their lives in the face of what happened to us. Trust me, I know – I’ve been having guilt over going on with the little things when Devin is gone. But life can’t stop. I don’t want there to be silence when I enter the figurative room. I know it’s awkward, and I know people don’t really know what to say and are afraid of hurting me. I understand that. But don’t let it get in the way. Don’t let it hold you back. I don’t want Devin to be ignored or forgotten, but I also want to have normal conversations about normal things.

Once in a while I am sure there are going to be things that hurt me. Things around my house pop up and remind me of Devin, and yes it hurts. But I would not – and do not – choose to hide them away either. I hurt because I love, because I remember. I can’t hide away from everything – and I wouldn’t want to. Things are going to hurt, but every day it hurts a little less.

Some days I can’t bear to “be around” newborns and pregnant women…. when that happens I take a break from those journals, from those forums. I don’t blame you for having a newborn or being pregnant. I would never ask you to “hide” from me just in case I might be feeling bad. Some days I feel okay, and those days I happily read your blogs and journals and catch up and comment. If I’m there it’s because I WANT to see your beautiful children, because I want to share in your life. Don’t apologise for having what you have. As Diane said, honor us by loving the ones you have… cherish them… appreciate them. That’s all I ask for.

(On the flip side, I am sorry if I cause you pain. I know that our loss has affected so many people across my communities, who not only hurt for us but are now worried for themselves. I know that seeing such an unexpected loss hit close to home can suddenly make things a little too scary. I find myself worrying a little bit that me posting around in others’ journals will make it harder on my friends, will be a reminder of what could go wrong. For that I’m sorry.)

ETA – I wrote that last paragraph quite wrong. I didn’t mean to say that I think I personally am bringing sadness to others or that I feel responsible. It’s more that I realize how widespread this is and that so many people feel the ripples from it, and I feel sad about that. “Sorry” was definitely a poor word choice.

I am gad Easter isn’t a big deal to us, seeing how it was the first holiday to get through since losing Devin. We had lunch at his mom’s house with family, and all in all it was fine. Low-key. Not too stressful.

People ask how I’m doing. I usually respond with, “It comes and goes.” Because that’s the honest truth… it seems like the best way to answer. I’m not just “okay.” I’m not “good.” I’m also not curled up in the corner 24/7. I’m functioning – we both are. But the grief, it comes and goes all the time.

Pregnant SIL was there. I enjoyed chatting with her, as usual, but it still brings up memories of course. I tried not to stare at her belly – I miss mine so much. I’m fine chatting with her now… where she’s at now in pregnancy I have been, so I still feel a sense of connection. When she gets close to her due date and, worse, has the baby? I just don’t know. I don’t know how I’ll be able to handle that. I can barely think about it, to be honest… it just makes me hurt for what I don’t have.

The rest of the day has been pretty melancholy. Too much time to sit and let the sorrows swirl around in my head… the what-ifs that will kill you if you let them. I feel a tightness in my chest. Not overwhelming, but enough that I find it harder to breathe. The kind of pressure that is just there, all around, no matter what I’m doing. I watch a movie and feel the tears press at the back of my eyes. I know the tears have nothing to do with the scene I’m watching…. it’s just a trigger to release what’s been lurking all day.

I sit and think about all the holidays to come…. from now until I die I will always think of Devin and wish he were there. I think a lot about Christmas and how the hell I’m going to get through it. Last Christmas was so exciting because we kept talking about next Christmas and how great it was going to be with Devin. I really don’t know how I’m going to handle it. To be honest, I think about just going to my parents for Christmas, instead of dealing with Christmas here with SIL’s baby. Devin’s cousin. At least at my parents’ there are no babies. But I guess this is a decision we can make later. I realize it’s still all so fresh – but honestly I don’t see the first Christmas getting any easier. I just don’t see me getting through it without an aweful lot of tears. I wish on every star in the damn sky that I get pregnant before then to at least soften the blow.

It’s just not an upbeat kind of day.

I had a dream last night… I dreamt I was pregnant again and going into labor. I was paranoid as hell, demanding to be hooked up to monitors so I could see that everything was okay. I told the nurses about Devin, so they’d understand that I wasn’t just paranoid for no reason. I wanted them to take me seriously. I wanted it all over quickly, so I didn’t have to wait… I was so scared… it was progressing quickly, though, like the first time. I remember for some reason there were tons of people in the hospital room, even my parents and brother showed up. I was all, “Come in, come in!” I couldn’t remember the names we’d picked out… they wanted me to write down the names and I couldn’t remember. We didn’t know if it was a boy or a girl. And I remember it was at night and I looked at the clock and thought to mysef that the baby was going to be born in the hours after midnight, and how fitting that was.

::

I had a totally crappy night’s sleep last night due to a cat walking all over me, purring loudly and kneading the blankets over my shoulders (it was Jojo, too, not Merlin – very odd). I love it when my kitties are cuddly, but damnit lay down and fall asleep!! I finally had to chuck him out of the room. I felt bad – okay not really, I was pretty tired and cranky at that point.

So today I feel really tired. I have zero desire to get up or to do anything at all. Picking up the phone to make some phone calls seems like a huge task to me.

And to make my day even better, I am getting sick. My throat feels all gross and it’s starting to hurt. I am left wondering how bad it is going to get and when I’ll feel normal again. Blah, my immune system must be shot right now. I’ve barely left the house in two weeks, and somehow I catch a damn cold.

::

My weight has stopped going down. I’m currently stuck somewhere between 146 and 147. I’m hoping it’s just a temporary pause while it continues to move downward, because I definitely have some extra padding to be rid of. I can always tell when I have too much weight on me because laying on my side drives me nuts due to the fat on my hips/waist. Blech! And the lovehandles.

The belly… well the belly has two issues. The skin is obviously stretched and loose now. It feels very strange… very soft. But it’s not grossly loose – not in my mind, at least – just a little, and I’m sure it will tighten up. But that’s not why it overhangs my pants…. nope…. it’s the muscles. I can suck it all in and look pretty darn good. But when I “let go” the belly just pooches right out. The muscles are not what they used to be (and they didn’t used to be very much!). So I’m going to have to work on some exercises for post-partum abs… obviously something very gentle to tone them up without hurting myself.

My boobs are almost fully back to normal. They’re back to my pre-preg size… although the band size is still 38. But I’m back to my normal C-cup. And they still seem pretty perky too, not saggy or weird. Yay. The “almost” is because they apparently leak when I get aroused. Errr. Okay.

Speaking of being aroused…. this whole no-sex-while-healing thing SUCKS. We had very very little sex while I was pregnant, because I quite simply had NO sex drive at all. But hormones are now shifting back to normal. And I miss being intimate with my husband. I crave it for both physical and emotional reasons. But we wait.

I don’t think it’ll be too much longer, to be honest. One tiny tear and some stretching (everything was rather sore for a while!) doesn’t take too long to heal. It’s already feeling much more normal.

The pregnancy seems to have come and gone barely leaving a mark on my body. I can’t decide if I’m happy about that or not. Most of the time I feel pleased that everything’s healing up so well and I still look pretty darn good for someone who just birthed a baby. But there are times when the whole pregnancy hardly seems real, I can hardly believe it really happened.

Today I actually managed to get dressed and run errands during the day. I don’t know why it’s been so hard to convince myself to actually go do stuff, but the days just keep melding together and I think to myself, “Oh I’ll just do this tomorrow…” And I guess a large part of me simply doesn’t care.

Well, one stop on my list of errands was causing me some anxiety, but I knew that was why I was putting it off: I had to stop and pick up our taxes from the tax guy. When we sat down with him and went over everything and handed over all our tax information I was quite pregnant. So since Devin’s birth I’ve just been putting off calling him to finalize the taxes because damnit… I just didn’t want to have to deal with it. But finally I was left with little choice, and I am far better prepared to deal with these things now than I was two weeks ago. So I went. I sat there with my heart thumping, nerves taut, just waiting to see if he was going to remark on my state of un-pregnantness in a jaunty manner. Thankfully it appears he either didn’t remember I was pregnant or just didn’t bring it up. It took a while for the nerves to settle though.

He did unknowingly bring up an interesting issue for me, though: the casual greeting. I said the other day that my response to the, “How are you doing?” question is usually, “It comes and goes.” And it is. But that’s only really fair when the person asking knows our situation and wants to know how we’re holding up. But what about the unknowing stranger who asks how I’m doing? The cashier, the banker, the hairdresser… people who you may see now and then, but you don’t have an ongoing relationship with… who honestly probably don’t want to hear your lifes tragedy. The tax guy, he cheerily asked, “So how goes it?” …. Well heck, what the hell do I answer to that? As I’ve said before, any variant of “great” or “good” seem so dishonest, even if they are the expected, polite answer. But do you really want to say something like, “It sucks, really,” and open that door? Do you really want that stranger to ask why things aren’t going so well? I feel sorry for people when they unsuspectingly place themselves square in the middle of that mess… because I really really don’t think anyone expects to hear, “Well, my son died a few weeks ago,” and then deal with me sobbing. That would be a rather awkward moment. So I settled for a brief, “Eh, it goes okay.” Honest enough without inviting more questions. It works for now.

::

Getting out of the house was not without other little challenges, as well.

I went to work for a meeting today, and it was weird being there again – first time since Devin died. It was a slightly uneasy feeling…. I thought about how the last time I was there Devin was with me. It was hard not to remember all the times I walked around with my big belly, laughing because stairs were getting harder for me. I had to take a breath and re-focus on the here and now.

Driving my car, I was thinking about how much I like my car… and then I thougt about how I chose a nice little sedan with lots of room in the back seat for a car seat. A nice family car. How excited I was, how proud.

Everything has memories. Even when I went to the grocery store last week to buy some things I kept thinking about all the times I walked the aisles pregnant, hand on my belly.

I can understand why people feel the need to start fresh… to escape all those memories. But as I thought about it driving home, I realized that – as hard as it is to face all those little reminders in every aspect of life – it’s part of the healing process. You have to hurt to heal.

It’s really quite stunning to me that medical professionals didn’t figure this out until recently. I read so much about how even just a few years ago women were not encouraged to spend time with their baby after a stillbirth…. how the baby was removed as quickly as possible, the reason given was that it would be easier for the mother to get over it…. to just move on with her life. But how on earth are you supposed to move on without closure?? I am not surprized that many of those women feel the same grief 10 years later as they did that first month… they never dealt with it.

I’m glad I gave myself time at home before venturing out, though. I do see a difference between avoiding grieving and delaying it. There have been times in the past few weeks when a thought or action was so emotionally painful to me I shelved it for later. It’s not that I thought it would just magically go away – I knew that there would be a time when I would have to take it down and deal with it, and that it was going to be painful. But I also recognized that sometimes you need a little strength first. There is such a thing as being overwhelmed with emotion and that isn’t helpful either. So I waited a week or two before facing it, and was much better able to handle it. It’s important not to keep putting it off, though. There’s never going to be a “good time.”

::

Speaking of fears… the one overwhelming fear lurking in the closet is that Devin was the one. In that ultrasound room when I found out he was gone one of my first thoughts was that he was our miracle child…. he was our perfect child. It truly felt like everything in the universe aligned just right for him. And the fear, the debilitating fear, was that it would never happen again. We used up our insurance, maybe we used up all our luck too. What if Devin was the only chance we are going to get.

We refuse to think like that. We have lots of plans and backup plans. Den and I talk about names and reference “when we have a baby in the house.” And to tell the truth most of the time it’s not an act… we really do believe that this is not the end of the road. We certainly are not going to give up.

But damn that fear is there, lurking. And it scares me more than anything I know. Dealing with Devin’s death hurts so very, very much… but I can keep moving forward as long as I know that there is something more waiting around the bend, that there’s another chance out there for us.